Natural Scars
by Tori101
Summary: They were seventeen, and already aged beyond their years. He was spotless and perfect. She was naturally flawed. Asucaga One-shot.


**Natural Scars**

They were seventeen, and already aged beyond their years. He was spotless and perfect. She was naturally flawed.

_**Disclaimer**_: I don't own Gundam Seed.

* * *

Cagalli was an enigma of being, neither one thing nor another, neither breakable nor impervious.

A Goddess of Victory, the weight of another soul had been weighing on her shoulders far longer than was fair, and for just a child so young…She grew, she adapted, she traded her dolls for politics.

Athrun knew this, but because of her strength, he forgot sometimes how vulnerable she could become. One such instance was a night neither of them spoke of, as though completely forgotten…but both remembered crystal clear.

Her eyes burned, golden embers of a great fire, but with an icy hold of self control she remained impassive and quiet as one of the councilmen made his piece.

Though the young woman hid her own wrath, Athrun couldn't help gazing upon the situation dismally. He did not fear for the queen to try and break heads, he did not fear some ridiculous insurgence of maddened hellfire and a parody of a caning from many millennia ago. But he did fear that the added stress of an unstable situation could push the Natural towards a stretch she did not have the capacity to entertain.

It was growing late, the work was tedious, and their voices were beginning to egg on yet another migraine she'd been known to have as of late. In short, Cagalli was wishing to curl her hand into a fist and batter an old man into a bruised mess. But those were the actions of a free creature, and she had signed herself into a life of gilded bars and worded compromises.

Making a discrete motion of her hand, the blonde passed a message to the guard at her side and stood from her seat, halting the proceedings of the meeting.

"My lady, what has," one councilman began, but a narrowed look from the queen was enough to silence him.

"This arguing is pointlessly dancing around a subject I have already given my judgment on. I find it useless to continue to pursue its amendment," she announced sharply. "I am retiring for tonight."

The men looked rather surprised and displeased at her words, but none dared cross her. Bitterly, they recounted that she still wore black in mourning for Uzumi. She was his daughter, she was a war hero. She was their Queen. So they made no noise until she had left, her bodyguard in tow, and they could not speak after she had gone.

The air was thick and heavy in the absence of her presence.

* * *

Their footsteps echoed in the hall and Athrun made a passing suggestion of ordering carpets. The comment was enough to bring an amused smile to her lips, but it did not reach her eyes.

With discomforting certainty, Athrun realized it rarely did anymore.

Pursing his lips, he reached out towards her, his fingers brushing her elbow before the blonde shirked away. She glanced over her shoulder, bright eyes masked and serious.

"Is there something you had to say, Alex?" she questioned, the hint of pain in her eyes all too clear at the use of the pseudonym.

Athrun's hand fell back to his side, and he shook his head. She stared at him a moment longer, and looked out a bay window on one side of the hallway. He followed her gaze, and found them staring at the oceanic sunset that colored the world in gold. He could have said it was gorgeous, could have compared it to how Heaven would look.

But he didn't.

Cagalli didn't appreciate words as some did, she cared for actions, and as Alex Dino, Athrun could do, and say, nothing.

"It looks nice…" she murmured peacefully after a moment, her eyes seeing something faraway and distant. She slowly turned away, and began walking again. She didn't bother calling to the blue haired young man, she knew he would follow.

But Athrun hesitated, if only for a moment. Looking out the window, he tried to fly as far as the Queen of Orb had, tried to seek out what she had seen. Yet he only went as far as the horizon where the sun burned the sea. And he made a guess.

Was she thinking of them? Was she imagining them? What would they be doing now? Who would they be with? What would they be saying?

With a quiet exhale, Athrun felt those questions were all too obvious. Surely they were gazing at the ocean, hand in hand, and their eyes would whisper words of love and eternity to one another as they awaited the coming of the moon. Her brother was lucky in that respect, he was far off on an island, away from everyone, away from the remnants of the war, away from responsibility…

Shaking his head, Athrun ran a hand through his hair. The bird was longing for the sky…and not even he could release her from this gilded prison cage. Her wings were clipped, he was merely worsening things with temptations towards the sky.

* * *

Dinner was served in her private quarters as most every night, and the silence was heavy.

The clink of cutlery against the plates was all that broke their self-instilled quiet, and every time Athrun meant to speak up, he would look up at her and feel even more useless. She herself looked stiff and bored, her hands performing the motions mechanically.

When had eating become a chore for her?

As she took a small bite of food, chewing and swallowing quietly before cutting an equally small portion from her steak yet again, Athrun had to look away. She was so strong; she held this country on her own two shoulders…so why did she look so broken by simply eating a meal?

Was etiquette that painful…did it remind her of Africa? Surely eating with her fingers out of cans of questionable contents amidst sandstorms and rugged refugees was not preferable to salad forks and scones?

"We're quiet, aren't we?" she asked, surprising him.

"I suppose," Athrun offered, shrugging.

Bright green eyes watched as her hands set down her knife and fork, lifting to her throat to begin unbuckling and unzipping her dark overcoat. Beneath she wore a simple tank top, white and thin, and as she leant back, gazing out another bay window, she allowed her coat to slip over her shoulders. An almost content look crossed her face, and Athrun felt it was familiar.

"The weather's been nice," she murmured softly.

Were they really going to talk about the weather? Of all things?

"Hm, doesn't good weather usually foreshadow a tropical storm?" Athrun mentioned, pushing something around his plate. The moment the words left his lips, he caught his mistake and looked up sharply, seeing that Cagalli was no longer smiling.

"I…suppose you're right…" she conceded, brow furrowing. "I should contact him soon, make sure…"

"Kira's fine." Athrun interrupted, catching the other by surprise. "He's not stupid, he'll be fine. He has Lacus and the others, doesn't he?" the bodyguard asked, watching as Cagalli's expression fell.

There was relief, and also disappointment in her eyes…and maybe even loneliness, but Athrun wasn't sure, didn't want to be sure.

"Why are you worried?" he asked.

"I don't know, can't say…" she replied quietly, hunching her shoulders, clasping her hands. She was twiddling her thumbs, something she'd only taken up in the past year.

They sat in uncomfortable silence and watched the slow sun set, sinking slowly beneath the horizon, into the ocean. Shadows grew taller, the light became dimmer, and neither had yet made a sound.

"He doesn't need me…" Cagalli said, voice tight and throat constricted.

"Your country does," Athrun offered, his eyes pained.

"I…don't want to need it," she confessed, a look of horror and self-loathing in her eyes. She lifted a hand to her face to cover her eyes, hiding herself from the world, or wishing to, anyway.

Athrun stood then, walking towards her, and dropping to a knee at her feet. Reaching for her other hand, he pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes at the touch of her palm. She did not have the soft hands of Lacus, but her skin was tough, and there were calluses. For all the creams and oils in the world, her hands would always be that of the girl who battled with her hands in Africa, who piloted the Grasper, the Strike Rouge.

Nothing could change these hands. Athrun never wanted to change these hands.

"Need me," he whispered, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"What?" she choked out, staring at him with wide eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Need me, Cagalli, just me," he whispered, staring up at her with half-lidded eyes.

"I…I don't know what that means," she forced out, wanting to take back her hand, but unable to bring herself to break the contact of skin. His cheek was so smooth and soft…

Her other hand reached around him, pulling him against her. His face rested against her torso, and he breathed in as she curled over him, his hand tightening around hers, her other hand burying itself in his thick, dark hair.

* * *

When did their lips meet?

He wasn't quite sure, but somehow they'd found their way to the floor, and their lips were attacking one another fiercely, needy. Her hands brushed through his hair, grazed his ears, ghosted over his cheeks. His own hands traced her neck, her throat, felt the first few bumps of her spine.

His back hit the carpet and she leant over him, knees at either side of his hips, her hands over his shoulders. She gazed down at him, staring with darkened eyes, searching for something she didn't know. She licked her lips.

He breathed heavily, his chest moving up and down visibly as he contemplated calming himself or giving way to the wind. The long shadows from the fading sunlight cast his view of Cagalli in shadow, a golden outline around her. Blonde hair glimmered golden and sparkling in the light and Athrun reached up to pull her head down for a kiss, for her short hair to touch his face, for the golden silk to look like liquid fire.

Her coat had been cast aside, forgotten at the table. His own clothes were becoming stifling; his body was beginning to collect a sheen of sweat. With no thought to it, he reached up with both hands to pull Cagalli flush against him, and then rolled them over, getting Cagalli on her back. He sat up, straddling her waist, and staring down at her with lustful green eyes, he went to remove his own jacket.

After discarding it, he braced an arm on the floor above the queen's head and leant down to kiss her throat. But Cagalli's body began to tremble and she jerked against him, lips quivering and eyes wide and panicked.

"S-stop it! Stop, Athrun, Stop!" she cried out, bringing up her hands to shove him by the shoulders. He was surprised, but still gave to the movement and was pushed to the floor beside her. He watched her with wide eyes as she rolled away from him, giving him her back before sitting up slowly. Her arms came around herself and she rubbed her skin as though she were cold.

"What…what's wrong? Did I hurt you!" the Coordinator asked fearfully, drawing close to her and reaching for her shoulder. His palm fell over the bare flesh of her arm, and she didn't shirk away.

"N-no…" she whispered, her voice airy and shaky. "I…I just…"

Athrun wrapped his arm around her shoulders from behind and leant forward, pressing his forehead against the back of her neck. Breathing in the scent of her skin, he kissed the bit of her bare back her clothing provided him.

"I'm sorry," he offered, his lips still pressed against her skin.

He was surprised when her hand came to rest over his on her shoulder. Her fingers were hesitant, reluctant, but she pressed down assuredly.

"Would it be pathetic to admit I was scared?" she whispered, but there was no hint of that fear in her eyes now. Athrun winced, feeling his chest constricting.

"No," he urged, "I swear, it wouldn't be," he pleaded, and pressed his lips to her back again, the flesh warm, soft.

"Athrun…" the girl whispered, closing her eyes, tilting her head back. Her fingers pressed against his, not wanting to let go.

* * *

Reflections lie.

Somewhere in that mirror world, things were different, completely, and so one's reflection could never be an equal representation of oneself.

Cagalli insisted upon this as she stared into the identical amber gaze on the other side of the mirror. Why did this girl look unsure? Hesitant? Frightened? Were things so scary in her world? What did she think of Cagalli?

Running her hands through her hair, the young queen exhaled loudly, her voice just a bit of a muffled growl, her short but shaped nails digging painfully into her scalp. This was ridiculous, what was she doing?

Standing barefoot and hiding in the bathroom, staring at herself, wondering if there was anything at all she could do to change her body, her image, before stepping out once again. Of course there was nothing she could do, nothing she could fix.

Clutching her arms, she worried her lip and stared at the reflection once more. This girl looked unsure and wary in nothing but underwear and a thin shirt. Her face looked tired and almost gaunt; her skin had lost the vibrant gold and turned pale.

The scars…

Tearing her eyes away, she teetered against the wall beside the door. Refusing to look in the mirror any longer, she reached for the door.

* * *

This whole situation was awkward, it was weird. It was frightening and terrifying and yet there was still a burning in her stomach that pressed her forward.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, his pants loose around his waist. Green eyes flashed upwards when she approached, and a gentle, patient look crossed his features when he saw her.

Not getting up, but holding out a hand, Athrun watched her, his pale fingers curled just slightly, beckoning her closer. She drew forward, a terrified queen.

It wasn't right.

If this situation was so awkward, why were they doing it? Why take part? Why didn't she just admit she was frightened, didn't want to…why didn't he stop her, stop this…

Cagalli reached him; her hand took his, her fingers gripping his tightly. Her moist eyes stared widely back at him, and then she swallowed, almost audibly. He closed his eyes, welcomed her, parted his arms. She fell against him, their bodies touched, there was heat.

Her fingers gripped his more tightly, her lips fell upon his forehead, and he sighed, giving in. This was why, surely. This piece of amber glazed heaven, dirtied by human mortality and fault. Morality, surrealism, air, all of that, it was irrelevant. Her lips were on his skin, and he felt her heartbeat in her hand.

They fell back onto the bed, her other hand sifted through his dark hair, soft as silk, falling from her fingers like water. Cagalli kissed his eyelids; she trembled as his hand brushed against her hip. His fingers slowly worked under the hem of her shirt, rested on the warm skin on the small of her back.

She kissed his nose, pressed her cheek against his own. He made a soft noise when he felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin. Rubbing her back, he eased her into kissing him, on the lips, fully meeting him.

Her hand trailed from his hair to his neck, tracing the strong vein pumping beneath the skin, her fingertips dipping into his collarbone. She pushed his shirt aside some, almost reaching his shoulder, but retreating to instead press against him through the shirt. He chanced opening his eyes, and stared up at her, awed.

Cagalli held herself above him; her short hair fell to the sides of her face, like a small curtain of gold. The light from the windows was rich, deep gold, yet it was receding and giving way to the dark indigo shadows of night. But her eyes, staring down at him, watery and wide, yet at the same time…

He felt his chest constrict, breathing became difficult. There was something in her eyes, something he saw so rarely. She saved it for him, he knew, he hoped, he prayed. That look, he would not call it love, because he could not be sure that was even what it was. But surely, it was something deep inside of her, and she showed it to him, he would call it his heaven, and that was enough.

Reaching an arm up around her neck, he drew her down, to kiss him again, and his tongue slipped past to meet hers. His hand burrowed through her hair, the texture, like her, not soft but it was smooth and felt precious in his fingers. The soft sounds in her throat, the gentle touch of her hand, the reluctant push for more…

She didn't know what to do. She was lost. The Queen of Orb had no idea how to proceed further, and Athrun seemed to notice it a moment before it even occurred to her.

He opened his eyes, and his hand began to rise along her back, bringing her shirt with it. Cagalli paused, faltered, and stared at him with wide, alarmed eyes.

Slowly taking a hold of her shirt, Athrun began to lift it further up along her body with both hands, and Cagalli trembled. The material of the shirt brushed up along her stomach, her sides, her ribs, and then her breasts, and color and heat flooded the blonde's face. She closed her eyes, turned her head, wouldn't look at him.

He prodded her arm with his thumb, tugging the shirt material as a silent message. A question. A request. A suggestion. An order?

Swallowing deeply again, Cagalli bowed her head, letting her hair fall over her face. "Ha…" she began, but her voice faltered, cracked, sounded like a sob. Athrun watched her, eyes wide, but calm expression still in place.

"Have you…done this…before?" she whispered finally, glancing at him through her hair, watching his face…almost as though she were expecting, hoping, for a certain answer.

Athrun stared at her, and for a moment he was silent. Blinking, he brushed his thumb against her shoulder once more, and leant back into the bed.

"Twice." he replied honestly, knowing a lie would be worthless. Cagalli stared at him a moment longer, and then looked away again.

But when Athrun went to tug her shirt again, she moved her arms and allowed him to remove it. He'd seen her like this before…somewhat…but back then…

Back then wasn't like this. She wasn't completely bare; he'd tried not looking at her then.

This time, he wanted to look, wanted to touch, wanted to hold her. She didn't want him to touch her.

His hands burned her skin, she shivered, trembled above him, her hands gripped his shoulders like a support, short nails digging into his skin. It was painful, but he said nothing, didn't flinch.

Athrun sat up some, to press his pale red lips against her shoulder, and her breath came out in a shudder. His arms encircled her, he held onto her, tilted his face upwards, closed his eyes. His smooth skin rubbed against hers, and she bit her lip viciously. A light kiss was pressed to her throat, and he moved lower, trailing his lips against her vulnerable skin as though he were water.

The Coordinator kissed down along her collarbone, over her breast. There was a strange mark…he stopped, eyes still closed. Still with his arms around her, he felt along a thin scar on her chest with his lips, and the blonde's breath caught in her throat, and they both teetered when one of her hands came to rest on the back of his head.

"Athrun…" she breathed, and closed her eyes to the darkened world.

* * *

From underneath, he held up his hands and ran them over her skin. His smooth fingertips brushed over every pore and cell she had, made her feel like she would sublimate into nothing.

Every time his fingers brushed along one of her scars, she shivered and bit her lip. A sharp taste hit her tongue, and she realized from the pain that she'd drawn blood.

He stopped, a concerned look on his face. Slipping out some from underneath her, Athrun sat up and drew her close, his arms around her shoulders. The fabric of his shirt made Cagalli itch, and her own hands came up to grip his sleeves.

Leaning in, he kissed her lips cautiously, drawing back and licking the blood away. He cringed, though it wasn't much.

"What are you doing?" he asked, green eyes troubled.

"What were _you_ doing?" she murmured back, eyes narrowed, an obdurate mask in place.

Athrun gazed at her, feeling useless, helpless even. His shoulders drooped, and he bowed his head, not wanting to look her in the eye. The Coordinator was surprised when the queen drew him close, cradled him against her chest. With her face buried in his hair and her arms around him, Athrun breathed out a sigh and relaxed against her.

When her hands began to pick at his shirt buttons, he made no protest and simply allowed her to do as she pleased. It was only opened a bit of the way, but her fingers crept inside and ghosted over his flesh, giving him gooseflesh. The rough contrast of her hands against his smooth pale skin gave him shivers up along his spine, and he tilted his head back, enjoying the feeling.

"You're beautiful," Cagalli whispered.

"What?"

"Like a doll, you're perfect." the blonde queen replied, turning her head, looking away. Her hand was resting over his heart. It beat fiercely for her.

"I don't know what you're meaning," the pale young man said, lifting a hand to her cheek, urging her to look at him.

When she did, he lost the air in his lungs and the words in his throat. Those golden eyes were watery and shielded, but nestled deep within them was the fear he hated to see…and…and there was…

"I'm so jealous…"

Envy.

"Cagalli, you're," he began to say, but was stopped.

"Athrun, you're more beautiful than most women around here." Cagalli pointed out, a small smile on her lips and an awful look in her eyes.

"Your eyes…make me forget who I am, sometimes…" the queen admitted, color flushing her face.

"Cagalli,"

"Your skin is pale and smooth…"

"Cagalli!" Athrun gripped her shoulder tightly, glaring.

"…_you don't have any scars._"

And like that, Athrun froze. His eyes flew from her face to her chest, the scar he'd kissed. Looking down further, he took in the scars along her skin, the imperfections, the marks. Her arms and legs were not spared either.

Makeshift training, Africa, the Strike Rouge, the war.

She had been a soldier.

She was a woman.

She was a queen.

She had scars.

She was a Natural.

…and he was a Coordinator…and he was perfect.

"Close your eyes," Athrun pleaded, and with difficulty, Cagalli did as he asked.

He pulled away from her, and lifted his hands to her face, running his fingers through her hair, holding her head. Pressing his forehead against hers, he kissed the tip of her nose.

"You can't see me," he murmured, and closed his own eyes. "I can't see you."

And hot tears slipped from beneath her lids and slid down her cheeks, flushed and red. Her light lashes were soaked, and her lips quivered. He drew back one hand to capture her chin, and he kissed her…as Athrun, not as a Coordinator.

He leant back down to the mattress, allowing Cagalli to press her knees to the sides of his hips and pin him down. Her hands, strong and frightened, pressed against his chest, and felt his skin, hot and quivering.

His hands tentatively went up to her hips, and he felt her skin, hot and quivering.

Athrun could guide her through the motions, but she would lead.

As hot skin met hot skin, and they trembled and quaked in one another's embrace, she kissed him. Her cheeks were tearstained and wet. Her lips quivered, her voice was weak and she looked as though she were in pain. But she kissed him.

As Cagalli, not as a Queen, or a Natural, or a soldier.

She was Cagalli, and there was a sunset in her eyes and moonlight in her hair, and she was still Cagalli.

That's all Athrun had wanted.

* * *

Night was dark, the room was cast into shadow, thin curtains cast strange patterns of light over the surfaces of the walls, the bed, their skin.

The sheets were cool against their skin, and there was a fan above them, turning slowly, slowly, slowly.

His face rested against her chest, her arms wrapped around his head. One pale arm had draped itself over her waist, and she hadn't brushed it away.

But her eyes were wide open, and she was staring up at the fan, watching it spin slowly around.

"Athrun…I…" she began, not even sure if he was awake, "I…don't want to see you in the morning."

It was a whisper, an order, and Athrun was wide awake.

He crawled back from her, supporting himself on the mattress by his arms. Staring at her strangely, he looked hurt and frozen.

She wouldn't look at him for the longest time, but then she did, and he saw her eyes, reflecting moonlight, and he bowed his head.

"Yes, my lady," and with all the dignity a man could muster, he left her bed and carefully retrieved his forgotten clothing from the floor. Without another word, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

When he was gone, the queen sat up, and drew her legs close to her body, wrapping her arms around her knees. Glancing towards the window, she could barely make out the ocean, dark and shaded, through just the barest slip between the curtains.

* * *

In the morning, the sun had awoken and the ocean glittered gold. Cagalli blinked sleep away from her eyes and left her bed, heading towards the window to throw back the curtain and unlock the pane. Opening it as little as she dared, she breathed in the salty air, and welcomed the air of Orb into her lungs.

A new day.

Her hand came to brush her shoulder, and she shivered. Her nakedness bothered her.

A thin robe over her shoulders, she glanced back at her bed, the unmade side. Stepping close, she reached for the pillow, and lifted it in her arms. Holding it up to her face, she buried her nose in the softness, and breathed in.

It was his scent.

Glancing towards the door, she recalled his wounded gaze, and ran to it. Her hands gripped the brass handle and through it open, gazing out into the front room. It was untouched.

Breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling erratically, she felt her eyes burn yet again, and she gripped the doorway so tight her knuckles turned white.

But then she gazed down, and the air left her lungs.

Beside the door, against the wall, Athrun slept.

Staring at him, unsure if she could wake him, unsure if she wanted to, Cagalli took a small step back away from the doorway. She closed her eyes, held back tears, and closed the door, sinking down against it.

"You can't see me, I can't see you…" she whispered, and buried her face in her arms as she drew her legs up against her, forming a bubble away from the world.

* * *

Cagalli was an enigma of being, neither one thing nor another, neither breakable nor impervious.

Athrun knew this.

That night that seemed to no longer exist in their memory would always rest between them, tied around their fingers, and connected one to the other. Because it was the first night. The first night is not forgotten, not really, and he sees the first night in her eyes every night afterwards. She hears the first night in his voice every night afterwards.

The queen walked towards him, needing the escort to meet a diplomat.

He breathed in the salty Orb air that blew in from the ocean not but a little ways away, and turned his gaze to her.

"Alex?" the blonde asked, picking up his mood.

His lips quirked, just a bit in the corners, and he removed his sunglasses, and closed his eyes.

"I can't see you." he whispered.

He didn't see the startled look on her face, nor the small smile.

Drawing close to him, her hand came to rest on his cheek, her lips were a breath away from his, her eyes closing.

"You can't see me," she whispered.

A seagull cried out in the distance, the sun was setting.

_/That memory is etched within me  
__When I hear your voice as I close my eyes  
__Even a little pain is precious to me/  
__A Little Pain - Olivia_

* * *

Fin

**_A/N:_** First and maybe only Asucaga I'll ever write. I like how it turned out. Cagalli to me has always been such a strong, passionate person, but she measured herself when it came to emotions, and in bad situations she'd explode. To me, it's like her troubles with her emotions and stature as a woman conflicted with one another, and being that she was a woman she may fear that if she gave into roles a woman plays, such as being submissive, to her being powerless or weak and controlled on the bottom, she would be less of a person and inadvertently lessen her self-value. Not to mention she's a queen and must feel she has to have control at all times. This is all merely my take and perception, I hope you enjoy and review, I'd love to get your opinions.

Love,  
Sam


End file.
